


Roll With It

by theleaveswant



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, F/M, Improv, M/M, Multi, One of My Favorites, Other, Polyamory, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-01
Updated: 2010-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-11 09:32:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleaveswant/pseuds/theleaveswant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four "strangers" walk into a bar and create a distraction</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roll With It

**Author's Note:**

> For the "anonymity" square on my 2010 Kink Bingo card.

The most important lesson Jake Jensen learned from his semester on the improv team in high school was to roll with the scene. Don't think too much about it, don't try to plan, just put yourself into it, stay loose and react to what the other actors give you. The worst thing you can do is to try to force an agenda on people who aren't picking up what you're putting down. That got a little trickier after he was recruited for black ops, when guiding folks who didn't realize they were part of the drama in a particular direction became a necessary survival skill, but the principle still held. "Guide" was the key word; you could nudge, and you could steer, but the more flexible you were the easier things usually went.

The brief tonight was simple enough: stir up enough fuss to keep the crowd's attention while Clay lifted and planted the correct items on the appropriate persons. The canvas was otherwise blank. They'd each arrived at the hotel bar separately, establishing the maximum of deniability and exfiltration opportunities.

Jensen strolled in at around quarter to eleven, after a nod from Clay who was casually smoking by the entrance. He spotted Aisha in the crush at the bar trying to get the bartender's attention, standing out among all the taller, stupider and less deadly patrons like a leopard among cattle (to his eyes, anyway; they all seemed none the wiser). He sidled up beside her because he was White and built and he had money in his pocket, and it was everyone else's job to get out of his way.

"Do I know you?" he asked, louder than necessary though the background noise was significant.

"I don't think so." She flashed him the barely-polite suggestion of a smile, then turned back to the bar.

Jensen noticed that her accent was back, or not back because it sounded different this time; Cuban, maybe, rather than Bolivian. Entitled White Dude didn't know the difference. He raised his hand in a peace sign over her head and demanded "Dos tequilas por favor!", because that was his idea of cultural sensitivity, and because he was tall and loud and his shirt was ugly but expensive the bartender served him immediately.

"I'm Chris," he said, and downed the shot.

"Zoe," she said grudgingly. She made a face before she drank because it wasn't what she wanted but she was too broke to turn down a free drink, and another after because it wasn't very good. "See you later."

Entitled White Dude made a face of woundage, and declined the hint. "Are you a student?" With Entitled White Dude on auto-pilot, it was easy for Jensen to sit back and chuckle over the irony of pretending not to know someone he really didn't know at all, and scan her performance for clues to the real feelings behind it.

She nodded, turning her back to him as she finally ordered and received her bourbon, which he was manly and provider-like enough to pay for. "Environmental sciences."

"Really?" he said it like he'd never been so impressed in his life. "So what do you think is the biggest problem facing our world today?"

Aisha cemented her role as the Girl Who's Sick of Playing the Firebrand Latina with a glare that smoldered, 'people like you.'

"He bothering you?"

Jensen was spared the decision of whether to notice and take offense at that by the appearance at their elbows of a Scary Mysterious Mexican Biker topped off with a black leather cowboy hat. Aisha thanked him and told him she could take care of herself, but in Spanish so that Entitled White Dude was forced to defend his Anglo insecurity.

"It's cool, guy, we're just having a friendly conversation."

Devilishly Handsome Scary Biker sneered at the silly honkie, and insinuated himself between them. He offered to buy Wishing She'd Never Come to this Bar a drink. Entitled White Dude got indignant while Jensen checked them both for hints of what to do next. He was momentarily derailed by the flush in Aisha's cheeks and the shadow of a smirk on her face—was she enjoying this that much?

"Hey!" Disoriented White Dude protested, grabbing at the biker's leather sleeve. "Do you mind?"

Scary Biker turned around and got up in Suddenly Not So Sure About This's uncomfortable contact lens-wearing face. "You got a problem?"

"Maybe," he said and then, because he was still entitled and he didn't know any better—though it took a lot of willpower to remind himself of that—he flicked brim of the hat.

Cougar's nostrils flared and Jensen felt a moment of genuine terror, but he was rescued by a Kindly Paternal Black Man, ready to restore peace and dispense some magical Negro wisdom.

"Come on guys, let's just chill out now. Ain't no reason to get violent."

Jensen took Pooch's arrival as an opportunity to glance past him and assess the success of their production. They had the attention of a substantial portion of the bar's occupants by now, and Clay was making good use of that circumstance, but at least two of the sneaky dudes whose keys they really needed to copy were still intent on their own conversation. He elected to crank up the volume.

"You want to take this outside, buddy?" Entitled White Dude invited, elbowing the Kindly Black Man out of the way to shove the Scary Biker's chest with two open palms. Cougar shifted into a better fighting stance and Jensen prepared to get hit, when Aisha, nearly forgotten in the rising clouds of man musk, spoke out loud and clear as a bell.

"I have a better idea. Why don't we all take it upstairs?"

Jensen, along with most of the room, stared at her while pieces of Entitled White Dude's exploded brain drifted down around his ears. He gestured between himself and Cougar. "What, you mean both of us?"

Aisha nodded and pointed at Pooch. "Him too."

"I'm married," announced the stunned Kindly Black Man, and Jensen could hardly blame him for drawing on his own experience to built the character. He might have tried to say something else, but it got lost when So Much More Than A Latina Firebrand threw her arms around his neck and kissed him like a hurricane.

Jensen blinked. This was an original twist on the scene, all right, but his internalized improv coach would have his teeth if he tried to block the new direction. Besides which, he _never_ got to do this in public. He rolled with it. More Open-Minded Than Previously Suspected White Dude shrugged and reached for Universal Sex God, who held his hat tightly to his scalp in case this was some sort of trap but allowed himself to be dipped into a humdinger of a Times Square kiss.

Jaws dropped. So did beverages. Jensen passed Cougar on to Aisha when Pooch tapped him on the shoulder, and had just about forgotten what they were even doing there by the time they traded again.

"You're dangerous," he told Aisha as she climbed into his arms in blatant defiance of Clay's 'we're done here now' aggressive throat-clearing.

"How do you know?" she replied, and bit his ear. "You just met me."

**Author's Note:**

> Content notes: Roleplayed anonymity in public. Drinking. Deliberate exaggeration and subversion of racialized/gendered/classed/subcultural stereotypes. Promise of an orgy.


End file.
